


Trained

by PapuruKakugan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Dominant, Beta Derek Hale, Bondage, Breeding Bench, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Piercing, Cock Rings, Cock Slapping, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Liam, Dom Scott, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Orgasm, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Oral Knotting, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Physical Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Read these tags and understand them before you read and comment, Sex Toys, St. Andrew's Cross, Sub Derek, True Alpha Scott McCall, Verbal Humiliation, bad bdsm, cock whipping, piercing abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapuruKakugan/pseuds/PapuruKakugan
Summary: Scott looked over at Derek, anger in his eyes apparent as he pointedly glanced at the wall, “Don’t make me tell you, Derek.” Scott warned once before turning his attention back to the television.
Derek automatically hastened to obey, and oblivious to Scott’s smirk he quickly rushed to the wood panelled wall he knew so well. It hadn’t taken long to refit the old wood, something he’d been meaning to do since he moved in but never had the time. The original plan was to have the alcove behind it as storage for the random supernatural paraphernalia they pick up, things that would be devastating in the wrong hands but shouldn’t be destroyed completely. But after Liam and Scott made their intentions known… Let’s just say the remodelling now serves a different purpose.--------Read with caution: take note of the tags used.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For anonymous commissioner.
> 
> Please, by all that is holy, check the tags. This has some hardcore elements alongside the non-con, so please understand what you're about to read.
> 
> If it's tagged, it WILL appear. View end note for more info
> 
> Be safe peeps.

Derek was lay on his bed reading some trashy novel he’d picked up at the dollar store, when a key turned in the front door lock. He stiffened and reflexively scented the air, his eyes watching through the gloom as the door slid open. Scott. Derek’s mouth went dry and his heart stuttered as he took in the True Alpha’s attire; _leather_. Leather bomber jacket zipped halfway, dark wash jeans with leatherette detailing on the back pockets, heavy duty boots that wouldn’t look out of place at the local MC.

Scott showed himself into the loft, slamming the door shut behind him and wandered into the kitchenette to grab a soda from the fridge, his thick soled biker boots causing stomping echoes around the large space. Derek’s mouth would have watered if he saw that jean-hugged ass anywhere else; it was round, plump and _delectable._

Scott ignored Derek completely, only caring about finding the television remote in the sofa cushions and finding his favourite channel. He slumped into the seat and pushed up the sleeves of his jacket, unzipping it fully and leaving it loose over his thighs as he sipped his soda.

Derek didn’t move a muscle from where he lay, his book opened with a thumb on his stomach. The only noticeable change was the beat of his heart. He didn’t want to move, _couldn’t_ move, if he wanted to remain relatively unnoticed. But he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Scott looked over at Derek, anger in his eyes very much apparent as he pointedly glanced at the wall. “Don’t make me tell you, Derek.” Scott warned once before turning his attention back to the television.

Derek automatically hastened to obey, and, oblivious to Scott’s smirk, he quickly rushed to the wood panelled wall he knew so well. It hadn’t taken long to refit the old wood, something he’d been meaning to do since he moved in but never had the time. The original plan was to have the alcove behind it as storage for the random supernatural paraphernalia they pick up, things that would be devastating in the wrong hands but shouldn’t be destroyed completely. But after Liam and Scott made their intentions known… Let’s just say the remodelling now serves a different purpose.

He pushed on a heavy panel to activate the pressure switch and popped open the hidden door to reveal their things. _Derek’s_ things. They’re his to look after, to keep clean, maintained and stored properly. He’ll be punished severely if he doesn’t look after his things.

Derek is on autopilot as he sets up; lifting out the industrial sized trunk and placing it at the foot of his bed; wheeling out the St. Andrews Cross and securing it to the ceiling and floor bolts in the large open space behind the sofa; bolting together the breeding bench and leaving it next to the cross; lastly he enters the bathroom and takes a thorough shower, his skin raw and pink and ready to be marred again.

As he exits the bathroom he sees the trunk has been opened, its draws slid out and presented for perusal. Derek feels so ashamed. He should have done that before he cleaned himself, his Master shouldn’t have to do that when it’s his responsibility. He knows he’s fucked up when Scott steps up to him and shows Derek what he’s holding.

Derek tries to apologize for his mistake, “I’m sorry, Sco-”

He’s cut of by Scott’s palm making harsh contact with his face. Derek’s only reaction is to kneel at Scott’s feet and bow his head. He gags as his leather collar is wrenched around his neck and fastened with careless precision.

Derek is knelt so close to the floor that his pierced, limp cock brushing the cold stone makes him shiver. The movement draws Scott’s attention to his discomfort and he inches the toe of his boot over the vulnerable flesh. Derek’s fingers twitch with the instinctive need to cover and protect lest he’s hurt. He doesn’t. They’ve trained that out of him.

Instead he watches with wide eyes, barely breathing as Scott gently presses the thick sole of his boot on the crown of his cock. Derek’s eyes sting with tears as fear courses through him. He wouldn’t. No, Scott wouldn’t do that. His Master _wouldn’t_ hurt him like that. Would he? Scott chuckles and presses harder, outright laughing when Derek whimpers and tightly shuts his eyes, his hands clenched over his thighs.

“Maybe I should ruin your cock?” Scott wonders out loud, his hand carding gently through Derek’s dark hair. The fingers catch and tug harshly, forcing Derek’s head up to face Scott and open his eyes. He doesn’t look Scott in the eye however, he doesn’t _dare_. Scott gives an annoyed growl and suddenly claws are pricking Derek’s scalp. “I _asked_ you a question, bitch.”

Derek knows it’s not really the question that Scott wants acknowledged. No, he wants Derek to understand he has no choice but to let Scott do whatever he pleases, that he isn’t the owner of his own body. Scott wants Derek to plead, beg and _break_.

Derek’s voice trembles as he responds, “If it pleases you, Master.” He truly doesn’t want this, he’s _never_ wanted this. But he’s also barely fought against it.

Scott scoffs and pushes Derek’s head away from him, forcing him to careen backwards, his cockhead and Prince Albert piercing catching painfully on the underside of Scott’s boot as it slips out from underneath. The pain in his cock makes his hearing go muffled as he prevents himself from crying out, he would only be punished more for that.

“No, I can’t ruin your cock yet. It’d make you even more useless than you already are.”

* * *

Derek’s teeth are almost biting through his bottom lip to prevent him from crying out in pain. He’s knelt on his elbows and knees, head bowed, legs shoulder width apart and back straight to achieve the perfect height needed to serve as Scott’s footstool. He had barely been given time to recover from the physical threat to his genitals before he was ordered to present and unceremoniously plugged deep with a large silicone plug. Derek desperately wishes he knew what colour it was, that way he might have an idea as to what _activities_ he’ll be enduring in the very near future.

He’s been serving as a footstool for just over an hour now, Scott having retrieved another soda then returning and thunking his boots into the muscles in Derek’s lower back. They’re heavy, hard and digging into places that could cause irreparable damage to a human; but his Masters never have to worry about that, he’ll heal. He can see the coffeetable out of the corner of his eye, shoved aside and discarded, and Derek feels his face burn in humiliation at being used as decorative furniture.

Derek can feel and sense Scott getting restless. His legs are jiggling and pushing more and more pain up and down Derek’s spine. His scent spikes in annoyance every time he glances at the clock; Derek wants to whine and bare his neck in pre-emptive surrender.

Scott’s legs are suddenly gone and he barks an order, “Up.”, as he unlatches the spirit cabinet. Derek quickly but painfully gets to his feet, back popping and muscles finally relaxing.

The next order strikes fear into his heart, “On the cross.” _No, no, no._ Scott, annoyance and Derek on the cross is not a pleasant combination in his experience. If he were human he’s sure he would be scarred from previous exhibitions of his pain.

But Derek can only obey.

Moving to stand in position, Derek slips his hands and feet through the wolfsbane infused ropes. They don’t burn his skin on contact, but his supernaturally enhanced strength becomes useless when they’re paired with the mountain ash St. Andrews Cross.

He waits obediently for Scott to finish pouring his full of the amber liquid. Too full. Derek schools his face to not reflect his increasing worry as to Scott’s actions. If Scott notices Derek’s apprehension, he doesn’t comment. Or, Derek thinks, he doesn’t give a shit.

Scott takes a sip from his glass as he approaches Derek, his eyes roving over the exposed flesh of the soon to be bound man. There’s a smirk on Scott’s face as he sets down his glass and bends to tighten the ropes against the wood.

Derek can feel the tingle of his skin as it makes contact with the mountain ash, the knowledge that he’s utterly powerless against it and the rope, the deep set horror that he’s willingly subjecting himself to this. His cock is soft as Scott slips two cock rings around him, one in the standard place and one nestled behind his balls. He tries to squirm away from the pleasant pressure they give. They’re tight now and Derek can’t imagine how constricting they will be soon.

Scott chuckles and moves to stand behind him. Derek tries not to tense, it’s more painful that way, as Scott twists the plug and presses it harshly against his prostate. Derek whimpers and grips the rope holding his hands aloft. _It hurts._ The sensation of having that sensitive bundle of nerves prodded whilst he’s not aroused is downright _torture_. Torture. Derek wants to give an hysterical laugh. Torture is all that happens here. There’s little point in using it as a descriptive medium when what you’re explaining already fits the term.

The plug is twisting, prodding and hurting Derek’s insides and before he realises what’s happening, his cock starts to fatten. Derek pants and closes his eyes. _Oh fuck, no, no, no. Fuck, please, no._ It’s useless, no matter what he thinks of, no matter how much he wills and wishes, his cock is soon standing to attention, drooping slightly under it’s own heft, a bead of pre-come shining against the metal of his piercing.

Scott pops the plug in and out one last time before finding the best angle to leaves it snug against Derek’s prostate. He wanders back over to the sofa, picking up his whiskey glass along the way. He’s evidently done with Derek.

* * *

The vibrations had started about 5 minutes after Scott had retaken his place on the sofa, legs restless without their footstool, and Derek has been trying not to beg for mercy since. He doesn’t want to give Scott that satisfaction of hearing him beg and plead, it’s the only defence he’s able to utilize. Most of the time anyway. The vibrations run high and low in rhythmic patterns, building up the tingling in his groin. He doesn’t want to come, not like this, not for Scott. He’s actually _thankful_ for the rings around his cock so he doesn’t have to humiliate himself further by spilling all over the floor, only to have to clean it up himself once everything is over.

Scott turns the vibrations up to the highest setting with a pulse pattern and Derek can’t keep in the moan as his thighs tense with the sensations. The vibration in his ass is the strongest yet, and if Derek had his eyes open he’d see Scott peering over the sofa, watching the slow drip of of Derek’s heavy cock as it leaks pre-come.

Suddenly the vibrations stop and Derek pants against his bicep, teeth indentations in the muscle from where he’s kept himself from screaming or begging. He catches his breath and finally opens his eyes. Scott’s vision is trained on the television, the remote discarded on the coffeetable. Derek sighs and hangs his head, catching a glance down at his persecuted cock; it’s angry and purple with need, the slit is steadily oozing thick, white pre-come that clings and cools before dropping off to mar the floor. The veins on the side are visibly throbbing in time with the spasms in his balls, his tortured prostate sending electric zaps he can feel down in his toes. His whole body trembles and aches.

He zones out. Swaying slightly as the ropes take some of his weight. His eyes are heavy and mind lethargic as his body heals, his still apparent erection losing some of its urgency. He’s so tired and surfeit that he unconsciously closes his eyes and is only roused with a jolt when the front door slams shut.

Derek is instantly alert, panicking. No one should be here. Only his Masters can enter with their keys. His mind races with scenarios of being found bound and bruised, laughed at. He sags in relief when the scent of Liam reaches his nose. But that split second of panic has him fully cognizant, so he doesn’t miss the feral grin across Liam’s face as he takes in their bound slave.

“Being good for us, Derek?” Liam asks as he approaches. He’s freshly showered, hair soft and fluffy, and dressed loosely in shorts and t-shirt. He looks so soft and inviting, his form betraying the truth. He doesn’t stop to interact with Derek, simply passes by the cross and invites himself into Derek’s kitchen cupboards, snatching one of the room temperature energy drinks Derek keeps especially for him.

Liam cracks the top and downs half of it as he joins Scott on the sofa, idly commenting about what’s showing. Scott grumbles and changes the channel. Repeatedly. Until Liam is satisfied and shoots Scott a cheeky smile. Scott grins back and gives him an affectionate cuff on the back of his head.

Something in Derek’s chest aches at the friendly camaraderie. He wishes that he could be good enough to be there with them. To curl up into them and be petted, cuddled and loved. To get them drinks and food and an extra cushion. To be someone they can rely on and be happy with. To be satisfactory.

It isn’t long before Liam notices the remote on the coffeetable. He picks it up and, feigning ignorance to its use, starts playing with the buttons. Derek jolts harshly as the plug starts to vibrate in his ass, on the _highest_ setting. He whines and bucks as his cock immediately starts dripping again.

Liam turns to look at him innocently from under his lashes, “Oh? Are you alright, Derek?”

Derek can’t answer. He’s busy biting his tongue as the assault on his prostate restarts the throbbing and utter _need_ to come.

Liam hums and presses another button. Quick, short, sharp bursts of pleasured pain stab into every nerve Derek possesses. “You must tell us when something is wrong, Derek.”

Derek still doesn’t respond. His hands only wring themselves in their binds, toes creak against the mountain ash.

Liam tuts and turns back to the television, sharing a devilish smirk with Scott, “You really mustn't interrupt unless you have a problem, Derek.” Liam chides Derek, tone mocking, playful and false.

The vibrations change again and again. Some low in intensity but long that leave Derek’s vision white; another, like a scale that slides up and down, leaving Derek tensing in anticipation of the peak and ultimately making it worse; the most memorable is the last setting, like a cat dancing on a piano it sparked randomly against his prostate, leaving Derek trembling and so, so close to coming he thought his cock would explode.

By the end, when the vibrations finally cease, Derek is incoherent and drooling. He doesn’t notice Liam until he’s directly in front of him, wiping away Derek’s drool with a cloth.

“There we go, doesn’t that feel better.” Liam coos softly as he pats Derek’s lips. A bottle of water is uncapped and tilted slowly for Derek to drink from. The water is like satin going down his parched throat, instantly soothing the ache. He stares at Liam with adoring eyes and nuzzles into the hand that pats his sweat damp temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Liam takes his time with recapping the bottle and retrieving a second towel before he slowly eases both cockrings from around Derek. Each brush of a finger against the raw, overheated skin makes a sob wrench from Derek, and he bites back a yell as the blood restriction is finally gone and it rushes back into his cock. It tingles and makes Derek delirious enough not to notice that Liam is holding the remote again.

He jolts when a cool hand settles over his cock, stroking him slow and firm, toying with the foreskin and tickling a finger against his glands. Derek writhes on the cross, wordless and crying, trying to get away from the too much but not enough stimulation. Liam only holds him tighter and starts the vibrations again.

The low buzz punches the breath out of Derek as his cock leaks furiously, Liam’s strokes getting faster and faster as the coil in his gut builds with Mach-like speed. Liam’s voice is soft and commanding as it whispers in his ear, “That’s it. Come for me, slut. Be good for once and let me have it.”

Derek catches and locks back his Beta shift before it happens, his Masters don’t like that until they do.

“Come on, Derek. Don’t you want to? I know you’ve wanted to come ever since you let yourself be strapped up there.”

Derek whines and automatically bares his neck in submission, an instinctual plea for the intense sensations to stop. _Yes_ , he so desperately wants to come, but it won’t be in pleasure. It’s never pleasurable.

There’s a pleased rumble in Scott’s chest as the bare expanse of Derek’s neck is exposed. Vulnerable, shiny skin on display for the Alpha, ready to be marred and claimed as is his right.

Liam’s hand keeps getting tighter until the rough drag of skin on skin gets too much and every stroke pulls a desperate, rattling whimper from Derek, and he can’t hold back any more as his balls draw up and his cock feels like it bursts. Come shoots like a pressure hose into the towel Liam has strategically placed to catch the release, thick and creamy against the white cloth.

Derek’s ass twitches as the vibrating plug keeps his orgasm going for far too long. He starts to feel faint. Woozy, dazed and floating. It’s _euphoric._ Every touch is an overload to his brain, every sensation too much but not enough as Liam tortures his cock even more, dragging the now rough feeling towel over the reddened skin, teasing his foreskin, squeezing his convulsing balls, massaging his taint; all in the pretence of clean up.

All he can hear as Liam’s touches burn on his skin is the soft croon of praise, “ _Good boy. You did so well for me._ _Aren’t you happy now._ ” Each word takes root inside Derek, burrowing and growing until he knows nothing else but _Master_ and _happy_. It’s something that will cause him untold shame once he’s alone and cognizant again, when the utter humiliation comes back tenfold. But right now all he feels is a warm glow for pleasing one of his Masters.

Liam takes a step back from Derek and the ropes holding his wrists are suddenly in pieces on the floor, Derek's body falling forward only to be caught between two strong pairs of hands. “Easy now,” Liam soothes him as Derek frowns at the cut ropes. _Weren’t they wolfs_ _bane infused?_ He thinks, but the thought is quickly cut off as he’s draped over the coffeetable and rolled onto his back.

Scott smirks in the knowledge that Derek’s conditioning has finally worked, they no longer need to use the wolfsbane ropes to keep him weakened. Derek's learned behaviour sees to that all on his own now.

Derek’s legs are hitched up, his knees pressed against his torso as Liam eases the plug out and immediately shoves three fingers inside, directly assaulting Derek’s utterly ruined prostate.

This time Derek tries to fight.

Derek doesn’t get his back two inches off the table before Scott slams him back down. He whines and wriggles as Liam presses harder. Derek’s legs give up any fight as _white_ flares behind his eyes and his cock pulses, pre-come dribbling down his limp shaft as Liam stabs that bundle of nerves. It’s coming, Derek can feel it, _taste_ it, doesn’t want it to happen. But Liam does.

Derek’s back arches off the coffeetable as his tortured cock gives one last valiant twitch and drools his come over his abs. His balls pulse and contract so much they _hurt_. Derek babbles nonsensical pleas into the air as Liam just, doesn’t, _stop_.

Derek really wants it to stop. He wants to have been good for his Masters. To be petted and praised and for the hurt to _go away._

It’s the last thing he wishes for before the darkness at the edge of his vision encompasses it completely.

* * *

Derek comes to draped over the breeding bench, head lower than his body and rocking back and forth slightly, the sounds of pleasure emanating from behind him. His vision clears a few seconds after opening his eyes to see Scott sleepily relaxed into the sofa cushions, fully naked with his cock limp and sloppy, and Derek suddenly knows his hole has already had a fair bit of use whilst he was out.

Liam is is taking his third turn fucking Derek’s ass, his cock squelching through the huge loads of come already pumped inside, a hand buried in Derek’s hair as Liam’s knot swells enough to lock inside the puffy, abused rim.

A hand trails down Derek’s back, soothing the ache he can feel in his bones from being strapped down for so long. It takes him a second to understand the words fed into his ear, and when he does all he feels is more shame, “Can’t even stay conscious for us can you, Derek?” Liam asks softly, chastising their slave with soft touches and a soothing tone. “We’ve tried so, so hard to teach you, Derek.” Liam continues, running his fingers through Derek’s hair before gripping it firmly and grinding his knot where he’s locked inside Derek making him whine. “And we’re _still_ trying aren’t we? How _long_ will it take?” Liam finishes with his voice dangerously close to a snarl, claws unsheathed and scratching at Derek’s scalp.

“You can’t even get excited for us, can you?” Scott interjects, standing from his position on the couch. He comes close to Derek’s face, sloppy cock hardening again as Derek watches. It’s cool and wet as Scott rubs his cock over Derek’s face, cleaning off his come and leaving shiny trails over his lips, cheeks and nose. “Waste of time really, aren’t you?” Scott gets annoyed at the lack of answer and sets his claws against Derek’s neck, dangerously close to cutting into the tender flesh.

Derek whines and tries to move his tired body away from the claws of the Alpha, but doesn’t get very far. His mouth feels thick and dry as he tries to rasp out an answer, “ _Yes_. Yes, Sir.

Scott isn’t placated and sends a dark look to Liam that is understood all too well. Derek grunts and is pulled backwards as Liam teases out his deflating knot, a rush of thick come dripping down the back of Derek’s balls in it’s wake. He’s grabbed by his arms and practically carried to the cross again. Derek would cry if he had the energy. He knows he’s about to be punished for disrespect, not staying conscious when his Masters are paying attention to him, using him like he’s meant for.

They make quick work of tying his limbs loosely to the frame with more rope. It’s slack enough that Derek can’t go limp against it as usual, but has to try and support his own weight. The pain echoes from his heels to his ass where his gaping rim is slowly trying to heal, his body feels ten times heavier in the wake of his use and he can only hope not to collapse altogether; he can’t go through _that_ punishment again.

Derek’s eyes are unfocused as he braces for pain. Pain he knows is coming if the thin whip in Scott’s hand is any indication. It’s a dressage whip. A thin cane ending in a thinner, tightly corded string that _stings._ It can also draw blood when used with too much force; Derek knows that intimately.

The first hit goes where it’s never been before; his _cock_. A thin, red strip blooms over the length. Derek is so shocked from the pain that he can’t yell. He can’t _breathe._ Scott gives him a moment for his lungs to heave in a breath before two more hits come in quick succession. Fire flares through his veins as the white hot sting ricochets behind his eyes. Blood fills his mouth as his fangs drop, cutting into his tongue. A pitiful whine escapes him as his instincts respond in the most primal way, begging his Alpha to accept his submission.

Scott doesn’t accept, but lays four more strikes on either side of Derek’s raw cock. Derek is whining and wringing his wrists against the loose restraints, not daring to try and move lest there be more pain.

Scott motions to Liam, “Lift his cock up.” Liam grins and steps behind Derek, curling an arm around his torso and pinning Derek’s tender cock to his stomach, the metal of his Prince Albert piercing cool against the flushed skin. Derek hisses in pain as the stinging flesh is pulled taut as it tries to heal. Liam runs a soothing hand down his back, caressing his skin gently and applying pressure on the nape of his neck. Derek goes as limp as he can against the cross and Liam’s hold, knowing his balls are now going to be the subject of Scott’s enjoyment.

There’s a part of Derek that doesn’t care. A part that doesn’t want this to end and be left cold and alone in an empty loft again. But at the same time he hates this, hates the submission he gives. Hates that he doesn’t tense his body in preparation as Scott aims the first hit on his balls. He doesn’t tense because they’ve trained it out of him. It took him far too long in their opinion for him to learn it hurts _less_ if he doesn’t. But it’s a double edged sword because if Scott believes it hurts less then he deals harsher hits to Derek’s flesh.

Regardless, Derek is limp, loose and accepting of his punishment even as his body sings in pain.

Time seems pass slowly and quickly at the same time as his balls are whipped, beaten. Liam has slipped his fingers in Derek’s hole and is massaging the walls, thankfully staying well away from his prostate. They’re scissoring and pumping and the rhythm matches the pace Scott sets with the whip. Derek soon starts to feel no pain, only jolting as the delicate skin undulates minutely with each strike.

The deep red and purple whip marks are already healing by the time Liam removes his fingers and they loosen his ties on the cross and carry him over to the coffeetable again. Derek can’t parse many of the words he hears but ‘height’, ‘angle’ and ‘position’ click enough in his mind that he knows he’s going to be fucked again. He hopes they don’t expect him to respond.

His head is hanging over the edge as Scott’s cock starts tracing his open lips. They part automatically and Scott sheaths himself with a groan, cutting off his air. But there’s no panic. No desperate need to breathe, just a calm warmth as his throat stretches around Scott’s thick girth. He hums involuntarily and Scott’s deflated knot twitches with the pleasurable vibrations.

Derek distantly realises it's dark outside as feels two ropes slip around each of his knees, they tighten before Liam hitches up his legs and hands off the ropes to Scott. His hips ache at the angle and the abuse he's sure has been happening for over six hours now. Scott uses the tension of the rope to steady himself as he starts to fuck Derek’s throat, the wet suction sounds increase as saliva quickly starts to froth around Derek’s well stretched lips. A new panic registers dully in the back of Derek’s mind when Scott tells Liam, “Do it, I want to feel him scream.”

A new rhythm sets up as Liam resumes whipping Derek’s cock. Derek doesn’t know what’s being used but it stings more than the dressage whip, a slicing pain that causes him to gag, and Scott to groan, at every hit. It’s like a rubber band being snapped up and down his cock, and no matter how much he wants to cry, scream and beg for it to stop, he can’t. He just doesn’t have the strength.

Scott gets more and more frustrated, fucking faster and harder until his balls are constantly smothering Derek’s nose and his cock barely leaves Derek’s lips. Scott grins when he feels the involuntary panic in Derek. Between the skull-fucking, whipping, and constant lack of air, Derek is starting to become truly fearful. His hands clench and unclench with the need to push his Masters away, his toes curl in pain and his calves burn from the constant tension.

Liam knows Scott is going to get even more pissed off with Derek if he doesn’t get his wish of Derek screaming soon. But he has an idea as to how to go about it. He stops the whipping of their slave’s cock and quickly fucks into Derek’s hole. It’s tighter than it was before, and Liam silently praises werewolf healing once again, as his cock is massaged so well by Derek’s inner walls. They ripple around him as he forces his cock further, hooks his hands around Derek’s thighs to grind as deep as he can. It’s so hot and soft, still so _wet_ from all their come.

Derek only tenses as Liam opens his hole again. Only chokes once on Scott’s cock as he stops himself, with well practised ease, from whimpering at the pain of being roughly penetrated. He knows his Masters hate his stoic reluctance to please them, and Derek hates the humiliation when he gives into them, begging. He can never decide which is worse; to be begging and whimpering and humiliated, or take the increasing pain until he can’t breathe or think.

Scott knows Liam has a plan that’ll get him what he wants. He can always count on his Beta. Liam grins at him as the Beta’s knot starts to grow again and their slave bucks at the popping stretch of his rim. Liam fucks faster into the clenching heat, slaps of skin reverberating around the loft. Scott can feel his balls draw up and his knot aching to tie, he only needs that final push.

He gets it when Liam’s knot is almost too fat to squeeze into Derek, but Liam pushes harshly forward with a snarl and tugs roughly on Derek’s Prince Albert piercing as he forces it in. Derek _howls_ around Scott’s cock, Liam laughs with his head tilted back as he comes, Scott’s knees want to buckle at the sheer _bliss_ from the feeling of Derek screaming around his cock. It’s so fucking good that he can’t stop his knot from growing, his claws lengthening and burying themselves into Derek’s hair as his cock gushes down that tight throat, knot locked firmly behind Derek’s teeth.

Both Scott and Liam ride the high of knotting something _tight_ and take a few moments to collect themselves, trading sleepily grins and relaxing. _Nothing_ is better than pack bonding with his Beta.

When he looks down he heaves a sigh as he sees their slave’s eyes closed, barely breathing through his nose and unconsciously drooling around his Master’s knot.

Scott sighs, disappointment evident as he comments, “He’ll never learn will he?”

Liam snorts and gives a shrug. “No, but it’s more fun that way.”

Scott can’t say he disagrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Not selected the Rape/Non-Con for the archive warning as Derek never actually says no, even if it's implied he doesn't enjoy it or want it.
> 
> Fancy a chat? Leave a comment or come find me on [Tumblr](http://papurukakugan.tumblr.com) x


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